


Falling gently

by Saintmakoto



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Library, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saintmakoto/pseuds/Saintmakoto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In hindsight, it shouldn't have been surprising when Makoto fell in love in the library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling gently

It had started a month ago.

Makoto has always enjoyed the atmosphere that the library gave off. It was a little magical and a little whimsical to him.  Even though he wasn’t always the most avid reader, Makoto would always try to make time for the library. When he got a job at the university library in his second year, he felt like flying.

After his first day at work, Makoto waved goodbye to the head librarian and deliberated on what to do now. It was just past four o’clock. (His shift was supposed to end at around three forty-five, but today was his first day; some basic things had to be dealt with. Not that he minded.) After entertaining the idea of hanging out with Nagisa for the rest of the afternoon, Makoto decided to just stick around for a few hours and get some work done. Hopefully. Maybe he would. Or, more likely, Makoto would procrastinate and just enjoy the library itself.

Grabbing his messenger bag from the employee room, Makoto sat down at a table he had discovered in his first week of university. It was somewhat hidden away by some towering bookcases, but usually quite perfect to sit at. It was right by a window and Makoto doubted the majority of people who knew about cared to sit there. It made you quite isolated; Makoto considered it part of its charm.

As Makoto turned the corner to his table, he realized that someone reading and actually sitting at _his_ table. And well, it wasn’t expressively _his_ per say, but he was the only one who used it. Ever. So he thought he was entitled to the right to think the table his, even if only partly, and silently in his mind. Makoto dismissed the idea of his possession of the table. Anyone could sit anywhere they wanted.

Makoto noticed something that, while not completely _weird_ , could at least be considered peculiar. The guy sitting at hi- _the_ table was wearing the same shirt as him. It was a different colour, sure, but the blue shirt the guy wore was the same as Makoto’s green one. He was one-hundred percent sure. It wasn’t that odd though, Makoto bought the shirt at the shop across the street from the collage, so it wasn’t as if his average-looking shirt was unique.

Mentally shrugging, Makoto pulled out a chair across from the guy and began read about the _totally –fascinating-and-not-boring-at-all-how-could-you-even-think-that_ wonders of the German language.

About an hour later Makoto truly realized he was… drawing attention. The guy with the same shirt as him, remember that guy? Well he was sneaking glances across to Makoto. Once in a while his eyes would wander over discreetly to Makoto’s direction.

  _I wonder what he wants. Maybe he thinks it’s funny that we’re wearing the same shirt? What if I’m in a class of his and he wants to ask for my help? I don’t think I know him though… What if he’s my childhood friend and I forgot all about him? Perhaps I just look like someone he knows._

At five-thirty the guy got up and left. Just like that, Makoto was alone in the library. The abrupt departure of his table-companion startled Makoto. He realized that he should probably head on home now.

This was the start of a routine which went on for a good chunk of time. One Mondays, Tuesdays, and Saturdays, after work he would just spend an hour or two at a table. Sometimes he would study for a bit, and sometimes he would just sit down and read. Every Monday and Saturday the guy would sit down at three fifty.

 Makoto started making observations. Makoto learned that the guy _loved_ to read. He learned that the almost-but-kinda-not-really-anymore stranger had long, slender fingers that tapped the table insistently whenever he reach what Makoto assumed was a particularly suspenseful chapter.

 And the stranger’s _eyes_. While Makoto _was_ gay, he was not the stereotypical gay guy who you’d want to go shopping with. (In fact Makoto probably would have deeply resented that stereotype had he not have been of such an amiable disposition. As was, Makoto just disapproved of it in his mild way.) Makoto was not one to romanticize things.

But those eyes were beautiful; Haru’s opinion was that it would be an absolute lie to call them anything less. They were a shade of green that Haru was uncertain could be captured with any medium. They glittered, they shone, but what broke Haru’s heart every time, was when those eyes _shattered._ He knew it was irrational, but whenever the guy reached a sad part of the story those eyes would waver, and he would want to rush over and do something. He didn’t even know what he’d want to do. Hug him? Pat him on the shoulder? Hell, Haru didn’t even know the guy’s _name_!

And maybe it was at this indecisive, in-between period that a little of Makoto fell in love. Maybe it was a little ridiculous. But that’s what life is like. Falling at all the wrong times, sometimes physically, sometimes emotionally was something about life that everyone must’ve gone through at one point or another… right?

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by lordzuuko's art which you can find at: http://lordzuuko.tumblr.com/post/87387520393  
> I'm absolutely unworthy dontlookatme


End file.
